


In a Café

by oreocheesecakes



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Romance, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oreocheesecakes/pseuds/oreocheesecakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For her, time has had no effect on the impact of her mother’s death. She smiles less, she hardly laughs, and she’s been cautious about opening up to anyone. But after years of keeping to herself, will a friendly, gray-eyed classmate's offer for her to sit with him in a café finally bring her guard down? A modern Kataang AU. Oneshot. Slight mention of Sukka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Café

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! :) ‘Tis the season for some Kataang!  
> This fic was inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Begin Again.” It’s a beautiful song, and I highly recommend both the original and the Alex Goot + Megan Nicole + The Piano Guys cover.  
> I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender nor Avatar (the movie directed by Tim Cameron).

_“And for the first time, what’s past is past.”  
-Begin Again by Taylor Swift_

A bell rang as someone pushed open the door and walked into the café, her boots leaving wet footprints on the floor. The pouring rain had shown her no mercy, and she was left soaked from head to toe.

She shivered, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself. She hated the cold more than anything—the ice, the snow, the painful memories . . .

_She was three feet into the pond, a dangerously thin layer of ice the only thing separating her from the frigid water below. She whimpered and called for her mother, already regretting chasing the beautiful snowflake without looking where she was headed._

_Thankfully, the woman turned instantly at the sound of her daughter’s voice. She let out a gasp, immediately rushing to the edge. “Come to Mommy, sweetie. Small, light steps.”_

_“Snow is unusually early this year . . . the ice is too thin . . . not safe for skating . . . dangerous . . .” The weatherman’s words echoed over and over in her mind. “Mom, I’m scared,” she said in a trembling voice, trying to blink back the tears that were pooling in her eyes._

_Her mother motioned her forward, trying her best to smile comfortingly. “I know, sweetie, but it’ll be okay. I’m here.”_

_Making an effort to focus on the reassurance she was being given, she took a few shaky steps toward her mother._

_“That’s it, just a few more!”_

_She was almost within arm’s reach when the ice started to crack._

_It was all too fast. She could only register blue eyes widening in horror, being thrust into a pile of snow, and a scream as the ice gave way underneath her mother._

She shut her eyes, briefly touching the worn necklace that was always around her neck. It was all she had left of her mom, the most precious reminder she had of when life used to be happier.

Like the ice that fateful day, her family had cracked. And once something cracks, it can never be the same again.

She shivered once more, but whether it was from the memory or the cold, she wasn’t sure. Her attention turned to other things, however, as the smell of warm, roasted coffee wafted over to her, drawing her in.

There was no line, so she walked right up to the counter, where a girl whose nametag said “Jin” stood behind the cash register. Jin raised her eyebrows as she approached, clearly surprised at the state of her customer.

“I’d like an espresso, please,” the dripping young lady said. “The biggest size.”

Jin started punching in some numbers. “That would be $2.99,” she said.

The customer pulled out a five-dollar bill from her wallet (which had thankfully stayed dry due to her bag) and handed it to Jin. After pressing a few more buttons, a drawer slid out, and the cashier dug out another bill and some coins.

“Here’s your change, ma’am,” she said politely, handing her the money. “The coffee will be ready in a short while. We’ll call for you, Miss . . .“ She looked at her questioningly.

“Katara.”

“Okay, Miss Katara. Have a nice day,” Jin said, beaming at her.  Katara gave a small, wry smile in response before turning to look for some place she could sit.

Unfortunately, every table seemed to be taken, and she wasn’t exactly in the mood for that “share-a-seat-make-a-friend” crap. That would require attempts at small talk, and that was something she wasn’t too excited about.

 “Katara?” She stopped; the voice sounded familiar. “Hey, Katara!” She looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, someone was waving vigorously at her.

She recognized him; they had a few classes together. He was that guy with the gray eyes and ever-present grin. He had skipped a grade or two, which made him a bit younger (and sometimes, a tad more immature) than the rest of them, but when things came down to it, no one could contest that there was a reason he was classmates with people two years his senior. Their conversations had been few but pleasant, if not a bit awkward.

She was baffled by the enthusiastic greeting—true, he was the cheery kind, but they were hardly more than acquaintances.

 _Well, it_ is _him,_ she told herself as she walked over to where he was seated.

“Hey, Aang,” she greeted him, stuffing her hands into her wet pockets. “Funny seeing you here.”

He shrugged. “Well, I was in the moo—leaping lemurs, what happened to you?” he exclaimed upon noticing her appearance.

She held her hands up defensively. “It started pouring only a few minutes ago. And long story short, leaving the house in a hurry makes you forget important things like raincoats and umbrellas.”

Aang opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Jin’s voice. “Miss Katara?”

“Oh, that’s my coffee. Nice seeing you, Aang.” On that note, she started to walk away.

“Wait.” She turned back, tilting her head questioningly. “Um, are you sitting with someone?”

Katara thought about her few minutes spent awkwardly scanning the coffee shop, and she had to fight back a snort. “No, why?”

“Well, um, you can sit with me, if you want,” he offered, gesturing at the empty chair in front of him. Katara was surprised to hear a note of timidity in his voice—Aang was never shy.

 More than that, though, his proposal caught Katara off guard; when she entered the café, all she had in mind was to quietly sip coffee _alone._ It had been a rough day for her, and all she wanted was to get away from the pitying stares and concerned glances from those who knew, just allow the pain to wash over her, and wait until it dulled. Maybe it wasn’t the best strategy, but it had worked so far over the past years. The last thing she needed was the pressure of putting up a conversation with someone, much less someone she hardly knew.

She was just about to decline, but something made her decide against it.

Maybe it was the the hopeful look in his eyes. Or the pure niceness that always radiated from him.

But it could also have been him in general—he was just so young and innocent that Katara felt it was a crime to ever upset him. 

Maybe she could give this interaction with people thing one more chance. For him.

 “Okay,” she agreed. “Let me just get my espresso.”

“Sure,” he said, positively beaming at her in a way that made it seem like she had just made his day. “Sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him before turning to retrieve her much-awaited source of warmth.

Upon returning, however, the sight that greeted her almost made her drop her drink in shock. She blinked a few times, trying to process the scene.

“What?” he said, seeing the question written all over her face. “It’s gentlemanly to pull out a lady’s chair for her, right?”

A stark contrast to Aang’s unfazed expression, Katara’s cheeks were on fire. “Y—Yeah.” She allowed him to help her in, and although she felt weird about the whole thing, she had to admit that it was also rather . . . nice.

“By the way,” Aang said, interrupting her thoughts. He had already taken his seat in front of her. “This probably isn’t gonna help much, but it’s the best I can offer.” He unzipped his black jacket with one deft motion and slid it smoothly off his arms.

“No, no,” she said, mortified. She didn’t want anyone, least of all Aang, to have to be condescending towards her. “I’m fine.”

“You’re gonna catch a cold,” he insisted.

“No, seriously—“

“Take it.” There was a note of finality in his voice, and Katara accepted defeat with a sigh as she took the jacket from his hand. At that point, it would have been more embarrassing to refuse.

“Thanks,” she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves. She couldn’t deny that she felt cozier. Or that she liked the smell of his jacket—pine trees? Whatever it was, it smelled great.

“No problem. It looks good on you,” he casually observed.

Heat rushed into her cheeks.“R—Really?”

He cocked his head, seeming amused at the fact that she needed confirmation. “Really.”

Katara’s eyes darted down to her coffee, and she sipped at it distractedly. She was unsure of what to make of his compliments— _why was he being so nice to her?_ In an effort to find out more, she snuck a glance at him, and to her surprise, she discovered that he was still studying her with an awestruck look.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she set down her espresso.

The boy blinked, seeming as if he had just snapped out of a trance. Katara noticed a hint of red color his ears. “Oh, I—I was staring?”

“Is something wrong?” She checked herself—there didn’t seem to be any coffee stains on her light blue top.

“N—No, nothing’s wrong.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just sorry my jacket won’t help much. I mean, it’s nowhere near a fresh, dry change of clothes.”

“True,” Katara admitted. “But along with this espresso, I’m feeling much better.”

He smiled slightly at that, but his eyes remained apologetic. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, you don’t need to be.”

They were quiet after that, occupied with warming themselves up with their drinks. The silence was far from comfortable, but it was the least awkward one she’d had in quite a while.

“So, um, do you like music?” Aang asked, obviously attempting to make small talk.

“Who doesn’t?” Katara mentally kicked herself upon seeing a hint of hurt flash in his thundercloud eyes; she had sounded more cutting than intended.

“Some people . . .” he mumbled. “But I guess you’re not one of those. Personally, I like oldies music . . . especially the Flameos.”

Katara looked up. “Really? I grew up with their music. Mom and Dad listened to them all the time.”

“They’ve got good taste,” Aang said, grinning at finally eliciting a response from her.

“She did . . .” She trailed off sadly, looking back down. Thankfully, Aang took the hint and didn’t press the topic any further.

 Not one to give up, though, he tried to pick up the conversation again after a few minutes, this time steering it in a different direction. “So you like espresso, huh?”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head,” she said, shrugging. Another silence passed between them.

“I don’t drink coffee, actually.” That caught her attention; she was staring at him like he was nuts in an instant. “This is hot chocolate.” He raised his cup, and Katara saw a hint of whipped cream and some marshmallows floating in the rich brown drink.

“Hot chocolate . . .” Katara murmured. “I only drank that as a kid.”

He gave her that amused look again. “You still _are_ a kid.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m eighteen. That’s society’s definition of a legal adult.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he conceded. “But people have a choice when it comes to growing up. Do you _want_ to be an adult?”

His words were like an unintentional slap in the face. Obviously, it was an innocent question, but he had hit on a sensitive topic for her. His words dragged up her buried bitterness at losing her childhood to fill in the gaping hole her mother had left, her hidden anger at the unfairness of how all she had done for the past years was try to put her family—and herself—back together.

 _People have a choice when it comes to growing up_ , Aang had said. Katara was sure he didn’t have an inkling of just how _wrong_ he was.

“All I know is that I’m not a kid,” she said curtly. She didn’t trust herself to say more, so she looked away, effectively ending the conversation once more. Besides, she didn’t need the wave of guilt that was sure to hit her after seeing the hurt, confused expression that was probably on Aang’s face right now.

Her gaze drifted, and she ended up staring at her arms—or rather, the sleeves of his jacket. Only then did she decipher exactly what was printed on them: light blue arrows. They ran over the whole length of the sleeves, and she couldn’t help but think that they looked familiar. She glanced back at him, and saw that he was watching her with a curious look.

“S—Sorry. The arrows are pretty cool,” she admitted, embarrassed.

Aang smiled, as accommodating as ever, and shame instantly washed over her. She had done nothing but cut him down again and again, yet he still somehow found it in him to be nice to her. “They’re actually an imitation of tattoos—airbender tattoos. See, according to legend, there used to be these people who could—“

“Wait, wait, are you talking about the Legend of the Four Nations?” she interrupted him. “Like with the Avatar and the elements?”

 “Yeah. You know it?” he asked, surprised.

Katara nodded. “My Gran- Gran told me that story all the time. It was my favorite.”

Aang shook his head in disbelief. “If you only knew how many times people have asked me about—“

“—’the blue people’? Tell me about it,” Katara finished, rolling her eyes.

“Anyway,” Aang continued eagerly, unable to hold back his excitement at both thawing her out andfinding someone who shared his interest. “I suppose you’ve dreamt of being a bender at some point.”

 Katara smirked as she remembered her futile childhood dream. “A waterbender, definitely. That is, of course, assuming I’m not the Avatar. How about you?” She even leaned forward a bit as she asked him this; Aang had touched on one of the few things that could make her open up, and she really did enjoy the feeling of nostalgia that came with their conversation.

“An airbender,” he answered proudly, before taking another ship at his hot chocolate.

The lack of hesitation in his voice made her smile. “That explains the jacket. Well, being an airbender definitely suits you.” Indeed it did—in fact, Aang seemed to be the epitome of everything an airbender was supposed to be. As an afterthought, she added, “It never crossed your mind to be the Avatar?”

He frowned. “It did. I mean, who wouldn’t want to bend all four elements, right?” Katara nodded, understanding perfectly. “But as the Avatar, you’d also be responsible for the whole world.”

“It’s a grand job. Everyone respects the Avatar.”

“Everyone would also blame him the moment something goes wrong,” he pointed out. “It’s a lot of pressure, from what I can tell. I mean, the guy who stopped the Hundred Year War ran away because he was the Avatar. It must be pretty scary for him to have done something like that,” he said, unusually pensive.

“I see what you mean,” Katara agreed. “Still, he was my childhood hero.”

“I guess he was mine, too, in a way,” he conceded. “But truthfully, I always thought the waterbender girl in the story was the real hero.”

“Her?” she asked in surprise. “Why?” Katara had always admired her as well—her simplicity, her headstrongness, and her waterbending prowess. But she always paled in comparison to the Avatar himself.

“Well, according to the legend, she never stopped believing in the Avatar, even when everyone else did, right?” Katara nodded. “She saw a kid trapped in a block of ice, and her first instinct was to do everything in her power to help him; her brother wanted her to stay away from it. Without her kind heart and unwavering hope, the Avatar would never have been freed, right?”

Katara let his words sink in. “That’s one way of putting it,” she finally said.

 Sipping thoughtfully at her espresso, she studied the young man in front of her, who was finishing the last of his hot chocolate. She was intrigued by his views on her favorite childhood story—now that he had put it that way, it was easy to see how right he was, and she could just feel her respect for him shooting up tenfold. His words, his insights, the way his mind worked—those sure weren’t those of ordinary folk.

Right at that moment, though, Aang set his cup down, revealing a line of whipped cream stuck to his mouth. The boy looked absolutely ridiculous, and she couldn’t help but giggle—something she hadn’t done in a long time.

The clueless Aang blinked. “Huh? What’s so funny?”

Katara smiled at him, humor lighting up her blue eyes. Maybe this was his unconscious way of telling her that above all, he really was just a kid. “Nice moustache,” she remarked.

He pursed his lips and looked down, trying in vain to see what Katara was laughing about. It didn’t take long for him to realize that what he was doing was futile, so he reached over for a teaspoon and checked his reflection.

“Stupid whipped cream.” He licked it off, rolling his eyes good-humoredly. “What?” he said, feeling self-conscious when he noticed Katara watching him.

“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head. The smile wouldn’t leave her lips, though. He was just so darn adorable.

Wait, _what?_

She paled upon realizing what she had just thought. No, she couldn’t fall for him—they just had coffee together, they were hardly even friends, and heck, why would he even be interested in her _that way_? He was just a naturally good person; yes, that was it. Katara was sure he treated everyone with the kindness he showed to her, and for all she knew, he could be inviting girls to sit with him at cafés every other day.

Still, she had to give him props—he had effortlessly managed to make her laugh, something that had become a rarity for her. She had almost forgotten how nice it felt, how a simple action could make you so light and carefree.

 “You know . . . it’s been great talking to you,” he confessed shyly, pulling her out of her thoughts. He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’ve always wanted to, actually, but I could never really work up the nerve to approach you for a meaningful conversation.”

“Why?” she asked, bewildered. Though she definitely wasn’t the cheeriest person around, she was on friendly terms with almost everyone in their class. People called her motherly and approachable, and she always made it a point to be there for anyone who needed her.

He blushed. “You’re too nice, too talented, too pretty . . .” he mumbled the last part in embarrassment, but it didn’t escape her. “And I’m just—you know—me.”

It hurt to hear the defeated, undermining tone of his voice, but she was even more perplexed at why he seemed to hold her in such high regard. Now that she thought about it, though, Aang always did seem different from his usual self when he talked to her at school—their conversations were mostly made up of him stammering something or rubbing his neck awkwardly until someone else called her attention. She had never put much weight on it, but she would never have guessed the reason behind it had he not told her.

She studied him for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his averted eyes. She had only really talked to him that afternoon, but she could already tell that there was something about him, something innocent, light, and down-to-earth yet profound and intelligent. He was just so damn nice and unpretentious, confident and adorably awkward at the same time and . . .

. . . And she liked that about him, she decided, a small smile coming to her face.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said quietly. “You’re nice, thoughtful, and smart. You’re patient and tolerant and you’re still kind to me even after everything—spirits, is there even anything _not_ good about you?” Heat crept into her cheeks when she realized how easily the words had tumbled out of her mouth. She had meant to reassure him, but she couldn’t help but think that maybe she had overdone it a bit.

Meanwhile, Aang had turned the shade of a tomato. “Oh, er, thanks,” he stuttered. A thick silence ensued between them as they contemplated the exchange of compliments that had just occurred, both of them trying to decipher the meaning behind the other’s words.

The thoughtful quiet, however, was broken a few minutes later by a loud ring, making them jump a bit. “Sorry, that’s my phone,” Katara muttered, digging into her bag and pulling out a sleek, black device. “Hello? At a café. Yep—are you serious? You’re pathetic, you know that?” She sighed. “Fine. Bye.”

“That was my brother, Sokka,” she said, turning back to Aang. “I forgot that family friends are coming over for dinner tonight, and I need to go home because Sokka’s idea of cooking is microwaving _Spam_ ,” she explained, making Aang laugh.

“Seems like an emergency.”

“Almost everything’s an emergency with Sokka.” She rolled her eyes. “But I can’t believe I forgot. They always come over on . . .” She stopped, catching herself. Could she really say it out loud in front of Aang?

“On what?”

She looked back at him, and to her surprise, there was growing concern in his silver eyes, not curiosity. Katara realized that she had slipped, unconsciously let her guard down—and consequently, Aang had seen the pain she had been trying so long to keep to herself.

She sighed. There was no hiding it anymore. “. . . on my mom’s death anniversary.”

Aang’s eyes grew wide, both in realization and sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Katara.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It’s actually the reason I’ve been quite . . . disagreeable lately,” she said, averting her eyes.

“If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel.” She looked up sharply, and true enough, Aang’s face had lost his usual brightness. “Gyatso was the only family I had. He was like a father to me—but I lost him when I was twelve,” he said, hanging his head.

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, too. You must miss him a lot.”

He nodded sadly. “I was really devastated at first. I was so mad and I tried to shut everyone out. I mean, what did they know about how much Gyatso meant to me, right?”

Katara bit her lip. That was the exact same way she felt—and was feeling—about her mother.

“But then I realized that he wouldn’t have wanted me to do that,” he continued. “Gyatso would have wanted me to stop grieving the past and move on with life. It was pretty hard at first, but after some time, I found out that there’s still a lot worth living for,” he said, a slightly more subdued version of his familiar smile back on his face. There was a certain kind of way he looked at her when he said this; Katara knew she was probably overthinking it, but it seemed to be a crazy mix of both meaningful and affectionate.

Pushing that aside, though, she couldn’t deny that he was right. Her father, Gran-Gran, Sokka, even her almost-sister Suki—she had been so focused on the person she had lost that she had forgotten about the ones she still had. “You’re right,” she murmured. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but at that moment, a clock chimed, signaling 6 PM.

Katara’s eyes grew wide as she remembered her obligations. “Monkey feathers, I need to go!” she exclaimed, standing up and grabbing her bag. She glanced out the window. “It’s a good thing the rain stopped.”

“Can’t allow Sokka to serve Spam,” Aang said, laughing. “I guess I’ll see you at school, then. Just give me my jacket back there.”

She paused. “You’re not leaving?”

“Nah. I usually hang out here until dinnertime,” he said, shrugging. “It gets a little boring at my flat.”

“Wait, you live alone?” Katara asked, her brows furrowing in concern.

“Not really. I’ve got Appa and Momo, the best dog and cat a guy could ask for,” he responded brightly, but the hint of loneliness that touched his eyes didn’t escape her. It hurt to see him like that, and right then and there, she knew that she couldn’t just go and let him spend the rest of the evening by himself. After all, he had done so much for her.

“Listen, how about you come over for dinner tonight?” she suggested.

“Really?” He instantly perked up at the invitation, but then sank back into his chair and rubbed the back of his neck, seeming to catch himself. “I mean, are you sure? It’s a family thing, and I don’t want to intrude—“

“I insist,” she said, and even she was surprised at how easily the smile came to her face. “I’d love for you to meet everyone at home.”

“I don’t know . . . and besides, I’m a vegetarian. That might be too much trouble.”

 “Not at all,” she assured him. “Stewed sea prunes are one of my specialties.” At the confused look on Aang’s face, she asked, “You’ve never had them before?”

“Nope.”

“You really should. They’re practically the only non-meat thing my brother eats, and that’s saying something,” she said.

He grinned. “Looks like I’ve got no reason to refuse, then.”

“Great.” Grabbing a nearby tissue, she pulled out a pen from her pocket and scribbled her address onto it. “Here. Would eight be too late?” she asked, passing the ink-marked napkin to him.

“Not at all.” Aang reached out for it, and maybe it was an accident, but for a brief moment, Katara felt his cool fingers brush against hers. She instinctively withdrew her hand at the contact in embarrassment, mentally chiding herself for falling victim to a cliché as old as time itself.

She shook her head, forcing herself to ignore the tingling that remained on her fingers. “See you later,” she said, praying that her face wasn’t as flushed as she felt it was.

Fortunately or unfortunately (she wasn’t sure which it was), she wasn’t alone—Aang was red to the ears. “See you,” he said, flashing her one more smile, and despite his current state, it was friendly, cheerful, and sincere. She couldn’t help but soften and return it with one of her own—there was just something about him that made her trust him enough to let her guard down. It was a nice feeling, actually—she hadn’t realized how hard and tiring it had been to shut everyone out.

She threw him one last glance, and he waved cheerfully at her, just as he had earlier that afternoon. Looking at him, she would never have guessed that underneath that carefree demeanor was someone just as broken as herself.

Yet here he was, looking like the closest thing to a walking ball of sunshine she had ever met. He had been able to overcome his grief and let go of the past to see the brighter side of life, and maybe, she thought, just maybe, she could learn to do the same.

“You going to leave or what?” He was grinning at her teasingly, and it made her heart flutter the tiniest bit. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll show up, I promise.” He held his hand up as if taking an oath.

“Right,” she said with a smile, pulling his jacket on tighter and averting her eyes. _Of course he will_ , she thought, inhaling the comforting smell of pine trees. She couldn’t doubt him if she tried.

With his bright gray eyes still fresh in her mind, she turned on her heel and walked out the door, feeling lighter than she had ever been in years.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this feeling that the story was kinda dragging. Or maybe that’s just how it is when you keep editing it?  
> Yeah, I’m really not sure how this turned out, and as this is my first attempt at a modern AU, constructive criticism would be awesome :)


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